


Weißer Drache

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bodice-Ripper, Dragon-Shifter, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, dragon rips clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Lucius Malfoy learns that he is a dragon shifter, the last of his kind. He also learns that he must find a mate to help him retain his humanity when he begins to change.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 66
Kudos: 185





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: at the end of chapter 3, the dragon tears off some clothing with his teeth. Nothing else but I want you to have a heads-up in case it’s a trigger for you. There is no non- or even dub-con here.

September 5, 1979

“Good evening, Nagini… You missed an intriguing visit with Narcissa Black – _Malfoy_, now,” Lord Voldemort hissed as the giant snake leisurely wound its way up the chair leg to slither across the top of the chair and down Voldemort’s left arm.

“It was quite enthralling… It seems she and Lucius have been unable to conceive a child. They’ve been to Healers. Nothing is _physically_ wrong with them… Young Mrs. Malfoy shared some intimate details about Lucius and I suspect he is more than just a wizard…”

Nagini lifted her head to the dangling tips of Voldemort’s right fingers, in search of a caress.

“I gave her a highly effective potion and she should conceive. I would never tell him this but I suspect that Lucius Malfoy is a shifter… And that his wife is not his mate…”

August 25, 1994

Hermione met the eyes of the notorious Malfoy patriarch and experienced something quite different from what she expected.

The dull roar of the Quidditch World Cup crowd fell away as she admired his pale hair and eyes and sharp features. He was simply beautiful. His grey gaze roved her face and she felt an actual blush crawl across her cheeks.

Even so young and despite the wizard’s disposition towards Muggle-borns, Hermione identified her feelings as intense physical attraction.

Lucius finally ripped his gaze from her and Hermione dumbly followed Harry and Ron until her heart calmed and her senses returned.

March 1998

The girl’s screams tore through Lucius like a hot dagger and he could bear the sound no longer. His once sharp mind struggled to find an excuse – any excuse – to point Bellatrix at another victim.

“How did you get into my vault?” Bellatrix screamed. “Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?”

“We only met him tonight!” the Muggle-born witch sobbed. “We’ve never been inside your vault. . . . It isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”

“A copy?” screeched Bellatrix. “Oh, a likely story!”

“But we can find out easily!” Lucius interjected. “Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!”

**Chapter 1**

As birthdays go, Lucius Malfoy had had better. Narcissa was a year gone and Draco, happily settled with his fiancé in Diagon Alley, rarely returned owls. Lucius spent the better part of his birthday repairing his dilapidated home and trying not to think about his increasing loneliness.

Over the past couple of days, a hollow, gnawing sensation had started to expand within his chest. Lucius couldn’t shake the idea that he should be looking for a companion. Idiotic as it was to think he’d be desired by any witch, he missed female camaraderie.

So it was that Lucius lay sleepless in bed on the night of his forty-fifth birthday, pining for company.

A gust of wind buffeting the corners of the Malfoy home preceded a thunderous growl. Wand and dressing robe summoned almost without thought, Lucius yanked open his bedroom door and raced down the grand staircase. Large shadows gave evidence of a beast outside the manor’s garden doors. Had someone set a Manticore loose on his property as a prank?

Lucius stalked carefully towards the windows. Sudden movement might draw the attention of the creature.

“Lucius!”

The deep, gravelly voice boomed from outside.

Heart beating wildly, Lucius peered at the moonlit figure. Was it a dragon? Dragons didn’t speak! And why would a dragon know him? 

A flicker of flame-like light danced across the beast and it reduced to the size of a man. …A familiar man in white robes.

As the figure opened the garden’s glass doors, Lucius remained still.

Surely, he was dreaming…

_…Abraxas was dead. _

“Lucius,” said the specter, moving slowly towards Lucius. “Son.”

The air around Abraxas carried a hint of smoke. Mystified by the familiarity of the scent and apparent shape-shifting magic of his father, Lucius stood rooted beside the foyer’s cold fireplace.

“I’m alive, as you can see,” said the man that Lucius had mourned for a distinctly short period.

“Father,” he finally replied, unclenching his jaw.

“Are we to exchange pleasantries in the dark? Show me where you keep the whiskey.”

There it was; the verbal lash. Lucius fought the urge to curl his lip. His father was a crude and thoroughly chilly individual.

“Follow me,” he intoned, stiffly leading the other man to his study.

With sharp flicks of his wand, Lucius lit the dark fireplace and summoned the serving tray. Abraxas’ gaze darted about the study as he accepted the glass of whiskey levitating towards him.

“Drafty,” the older wizard muttered.

“You’re a dragon,” Lucius prompted. He wanted this riddle solved quickly. That his father lived was shock enough without the idea of him being a shape-shifter.

“Weißer Drache. As are you, son.”

“Auf Deutsch?” Lucius asked, heart skipping to hear his father name him a ‘white dragon.’

“Ja, a few ancestors ago… You know, of course, that we’re an ancient family.”

“And I believed us to be of French descent,” Lucius mused, sipping his whiskey. The burn of the alcohol down his throat warmed him to his toes. “Does Mother know?”

“She did. But she believes me dead and I’d just as soon keep it that way.”

“What are you doing here, then?” Lucius asked.

With an angry clink of his glass onto the table beside him, Abraxas gave an irritated sigh.

“Of course I have a purpose here you ungrateful pup. You’re maturing and you must find your mate or you’ll live the rest of your days a dragon.”

“My wife-”

“Is she still such? I was under the impression she’d gone.”

Lucius pressed his lips together. Yes, Narcissa was gone.

“Narcissa Black was chosen for you because we thought she might be a Weißer Drache with her coloring. Obviously, she’s not. She probably insn’t a Black. And she’s not your mate, either. She should have never been able to conceive and bear your child.”

“We lost many,” Lucius murmurred, rapt with his father’s revelation.

Abraxas nodded. “Only your mate may bear your child... I believe Narcissa used the darkest magics to give you one.”

Lucius’ gaze went hazy as he recalled the challenges they had faced and the care Narcissa had taken during her pregnancy. They had lost three unborn children before Draco. As well as one, after…

“Even if you find your mate it’s unlikely you will father another. Our line only has one, apiece. Always a male. Always a Drache. However, the witch stole your rightful son from you and gave you only a wizard.”

Mind swirling with the news, Lucius remained quiet. He knew better than to ask incessant questions of his father. Abraxas was not a sympathetic man but he wasn’t a liar. Lucius could only hide his emotions and wait for the man’s departure.

“It was necessary I disappear when I did… When Mathilde lost another unborn, my grief was so great that I could not change back to a man for two years… She made up a story I died of Dragon Pox – ha!”

For lack of wanting to converse, Lucius offered Abraxas more whisky. Abraxas shook his head.

“…I dare not see her. She might not forgive me for having left. …I’ll be off, now. Returning to my sancuatry in the north. Find your mate – learn to control your change.”

“If you’ve been watching you must know that I’m disgraced by society…” Lucius confessed.

Abraxas huffed. “Think, boy. Is there no one who made your blood boil and stir at the same time? No one who you found equally alluring and infuriating?”

Lucius’ hand rested thoughtfully on the whisky decanter. He _had_ felt that particular combination. But, he could not remember for whom.

“Best get out and socialize. Find her and make her yours. Soon. She’ll be the reason you become human, again. Trust me, you don’t want to live out your days in some magical zoo. You’re the last of our kind, now.”

Overwhelmed by his father’s parting words, Lucius missed the man’s exit. It was no matter; Abraxas knew the manor.

“Weißer Drache,” Lucius whispered to himself, settling the serving tray and hushing the fire.

It explained a few things, actually. Lucius mounted the stairs, remembering how he lost his temper in the past and felt as though a bellows inside him was stoking fire in his chest. He worked hard to emotionally neuter himself.

And, perhaps his current restlessness could now be explained. He needed to find his mate.

Lucius finally slept, pondering where to begin the search.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As Hermione nudged her way into the crowded lift, she noticed Lucius Malfoy in the back, looking particularly murderous.

Why did she always make note of the wizard? He’d been about the Ministry lately and Hermione did her best to avoid him. She had little interest in making conversation with him let alone exchanging uncomfortable pleasantries. Still, in a lift stuffed with people, the only individual Hermione observed was the incensed wizard at the back.

As the elevator descended and witches and wizards departed at various floors, Hermione was electrically aware of the Malfoy patriarch, still in the corner.

When the last witch stepped from the lift, leaving Hermione alone with Lucius, she shot him a respectful nod. It would be more awkward not to acknowledge him. She was met with a positively furious glower.

“You!” he suddenly roared.

Wand drawn, Hermione flattened against the door. 

For a moment, he merely glared.

“You’re too young for me,” he growled, smoke trickling from his mouth.

While Hermione wouldn’t stand to be yelled nonsense at, she couldn’t help her fascination. “Are you alright? You’re… Smoking…”

The wizard’s complexion went white and his eyes, wide. 

“Help me… Please…” he croaked, taking off his glove and reaching for her.

Captivated by the wizard’s behavior, Hermione took his hand. She gasped as he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, against her neck. His breath on her throat and the warmth of his embrace elicited an immediate reaction of interest; in short, Hermione was inexplicably turned-on. He smelled of fresh cinnamon and whiskey. Heat poured through Hermione, igniting woefully underused bits of anatomy. The thrum of his racing heartbeat slowed as she allowed him to hold her. Unless she was imagining things, his temperature fell as well.

Gently, perhaps reluctantly, Lucius released her.

“Forgive me – I’m not myself,” he hissed, unable to look at her.

“Apparently,” Hermione breathed, uncertainly stepping away. She wanted to do more than just hold Lucius. Her cheeks colored as she imagined doing _more_ things with the man. She glanced at him and her breath caught in her throat to find him staring back at her with mysterious intensity.

Hermione escaped the lift before the doors opened fully. _What the hell had just happened?_

**Two Days Later**

“Ms. Granger.”

His very voice sent the tiny hairs on Hermione’s nape to tingling and she knew his identity before turning to see him. Apparently, Lucius Malfoy had discovered that she worked in the Department for the Protection of Magical Creatures.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she replied, thankful for the desk between them. Fighting the urge to wrap herself around the wizard, Hermione gripped tight the desk’s lip.

“I wonder if you might join me in my home for dinner this evening,” he invited, voice a deep growl.

Noting the darkness under Lucius’ eyes and the tension in the hand curled around his cane, Hermione wondered if he was sleeping. The gravelly sound of his voice was lower in register than the other day. And, the slightest whiff of smoke teased her nose.

“I think of nothing but you…” he added hoarsely.

“Perhaps, a restaurant..?” Hermione suggested breathily. His hushed confession and intense appearance muddled her emotions.

“No respectable establishment will seat me,” he replied, eyes flashing with a spark of anger.

Hermione fancied that warmth was emanating from the wizard. But, how could that be possible?

Unable to help herself, Hermione stood to be closer to Lucius; she had enough awareness to remain behind her desk.

“I’m not sure what’s happening here,” she gestured frankly from him to herself. “But if we’re alone together, I don’t imagine we’ll be eating…”

Lucius gave one stiff nod of understanding.

“I’ll arrange something public and send you an owl,” he replied, voice even less recognizable for its gruff rumble. He stood there a moment more and Hermione wondered what he must be feeling and thinking.

“Is this an enchantment..?” she asked him. “Or a potion..?”

“No.”

“Then, what is it?”

“What do you feel?”

“Since the lift, I can’t think of anything but you.”

Lucius nodded.

“Perhaps someone cast some spell on us..?”

“Perhaps,” was the wizard’s enigmatic reply.

As if he’d reached a decision, Lucius closed his eyes and sighed. He waited one heartbeat more then spun on his heel and moved rigidly out the door.

**That Evening**

Hermione lifted her hand to knock and hesitated to see it tremble. Lucius had indeed sent her an owl, inviting her to select a Muggle restaurant. Touched, Hermione decided to stop fighting whatever draw they held upon one another. She chose to give-in and satisfy her physical desire. Thus, she knocked on the door at Malfoy Manor an hour before they were to meet. Something told her Lucius wouldn’t mind.

“Master Lucius is dressing,” said a wrinkled, elderly House-elf as he led Hermione into the foyer.

“Will you show me to his rooms?” Hermione asked kindly, gaze following the grand staircase upwards.

“Master does not receive guests in his rooms,” said the House-elf with an air of confusion.

“I promise you he will not mind just this once,” Hermione smiled tremulously. Having made her mind up to slake her physical interest in the wizard, she was equal parts nervous and calm. Her bravado both alarmed and strengthened her.

“Wiley will ask his Master. Please, wait here.”

Not willing to challenge the House-elf’s order, Hermione removed her cloak and gloves, draping them across the hall table.

The house-elf scurried back down the stairs so quickly, Hermione feared he might fall.

“Follow me, Miss,” he panted.

Ascension of the stairwell a blur, Hermione trailed the House-elf down a dark corridor to a massive set of double-doors.

It was a shock to find the doors standing open and Lucius Malfoy in only a white towel, beyond. He sat at the foot of his bed, gazing pensively into a blazing fire. Something glittered in a neat pattern down the length of his spine but Hermione supposed it to be water. He’d obviously just bathed and his pale locks curled in damp lengths against his skin.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she greeted as she moved deeper into the room, closer to him.

“How lovely to see you,” he whispered, finally looking at her. Had he always had vertical pupils?

With no desk between them or willpower to resist, Hermione found herself leaning over Lucius to kiss him. Then, she was straddling him as he drew her down onto the bed and into his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

The warning Hermione received that something ill-timed was about to happen was that Lucius’ skin ignited with blue-white flames. She scrambled off of him, transfixed, as he was consumed by fire. She drew her wand but by the time it was in her palm, she was gawking at a dragon.

A massive, white dragon.

He wasn’t the quite the size of the dragons in the Triwizard Tournament but he filled his bedroom. The beast twisted his long neck as if stretching and two magnificent wings unfurled from his shoulders; they scraped the ceiling and walls as he attempted to stand. He made a frustrated huffing growl and smoke poured from his mouth.

Limbs numb, Hermione stumbled, backing away. Unless she was greatly mistaken, he was about to melt some walls.

When the dragon attempted to extend to his full height again, he gave a great roar, prompting Hermione to cover her ears. The sound was deafening in such close confines. A thunderous cracking foretold the thick legs of the poor bed giving way.

Perhaps startled by the sound, the dragon swung his head and shot white flames at the exquisitely carved wardrobe. Smoke rolled across the ceiling and Hermione panicked. Obviously, Lucius-the-dragon had no control over himself. They might die of asphyxiation if she didn’t act. She shot a water spell at the wardrobe and the charcoal remains hissed with steam.

Countering the flames, it seemed, drew the dragon’s attention to Hermione. The great, horned head lowered and silver eyes fixed on her.

“Lucius,” she said in a gentle voice. “It’s me. I promise that you’re safe.”

The dragon snuffled and lumbered towards her, further demolishing the ceiling with his wings.

As if annoyed, the white dragon turned and spat fire at the ceiling and then directed his flames to the walls, incinerating his fine paintings and furnishings.

Hermione chased all of the fires with water spells and then quickly cast an undetectable extension charm on the ceiling. More spells vanished the French doors and pushed out the balcony. She’d had enough of his destructive reaction to his confines. With relief, she saw that her spells took hold. Despite her quick thinking, she wasn’t certain that Malfoy Manor would accept her magic.

Suddenly, the dragon realized it had an escape and leaped towards the open doors. Concerned, Hermione followed. His long tail lashed her leg and she cried out as a sharp spike caught, breaking skin. The dragon whipped about to loom over her. It clumsily nosed at her, accidentally knocking her from her feet and her wand from her hand.

“I’m alright,” she sighed holding up her arm to keep him from nuzzling her into the floor.

A curious sensation lifted through Hermione as her hand encountered him. Her fingers moved gently over his slick scales and she was filled with warmth, as though experiencing the comfort of home. The dragon, it seemed, enjoyed her touch as well; he dropped beside her, shaking the floor with his girth, and curled around her as if protecting her. Left with little alternative, Hermione contented herself with that fact that she was keeping Lucius from rushing off the balcony and plummeting to his death.

“How could you not tell me that you turn into a dragon?” she rebelliously murmured, wondering if he could understand her.

The dilating of his vertical pupils as the dragon looked out at the night and then at her made her think he could, at the very least, hear her.

“You want to fly, don’t you?”

With gentle touches, guiding the dragon’s limbs here and there, Hermione managed to find her wand under him. She cleaned her leg of blood and soot – it was not a small scratch – and used a skin knitting charm on the wound.

“All better,” she explained, letting the dragon nose at her leg. “Perhaps you should test your wings,” she added, wondering what on earth had happened to Lucius Malfoy that left him changed into a dragon. His attention and apparent concern for her spoke of some semblance of awareness; he wasn’t all beast.

Picking her footing with care, Hermione extricated herself from the circle made by the dragon and moved carefully through charred remains of furnishings to the balcony. He turned his head, gaze following her like a cat.

“Do you want to fly?” she coaxed.

“Yes,” came a rumbling growl as the dragon raised himself from the floor and lumbered towards her.

Startled, Hermione laughed. “You _can_ speak!”

The dragon nudged Hermione’s shoulder with his nose, directing her inside. Curious, not to mention unwilling to argue with a dragon, Hermione allowed it. The dragon left her just inside, clear of the balcony. Once he moved out onto it, she understood why. Free of barriers, the dragon _fully_ unfolded his wings; they were three times the length of his body.

In the moonlight, the dragon’s scales appeared black, glistening with stars. Enchanted, Hermione could only watch him in silence.

“Fly,” the dragon rumbled, testing the breadth and strength of his wings with violent beats that sent Hermione further into the room. The gusts would easily push her down. A couple of powerful scoops of his wings and a muscular leap sent the dragon up into the night.

Heart in her throat, Hermione raced to the balcony to watch. Despite having white scales, he blended well with the dark sky. If she wasn’t looking for him, she was unlikely to spot him as he slipped silently through the air. The dragon remained within sight except for brief flickers into low clouds.

After at least an hour, the dragon returned to the balcony. There was marked weariness in his movements as he settled, laboriously folded his wings, and shuffled towards the bed.

“Sleep,” he growled, nudging Hermione’s shoulder as he moved past her.

“I, er, oh alright,” she conceded with a sigh. She could just slip away once he closed his eyes.

As the dragon clambered onto the mattress, he turned, apparently waiting for Hermione. Mentally, she thanked Merlin for his large, ungainly claws. She had a feeling the dragon would simply carry her about if he could get a grip on her.

Grinning in guilty pleasure at the idea of being the dragon’s pet, Hermione toed off her shoes and sat down beside Lucius-the-dragon. Immediately, she was engulfed by a scaly body as he curled around her, resting his head on her lap. Just as quickly, he lifted his head and gave a slight growl as if unsettled by something. Before Hermione realized what he was doing, the dragon had managed to grab the fabric of her skirt and blouse in his teeth. With a quick jerk of his head, the fabric tore. Hermione gasped to be rendered nude by the beast but found herself unable to do much about it as he settled his head back onto her lap and gave a sound like a chuff or purr.


	4. Chapter 4

An acrid, burnt smell filled Lucius’ nostrils and he struggled with his bedclothes for a moment before he could sit up.

The entire room was charred black; the curtains were gone, explaining the blinding sun. A quick inspection showed that his beloved four-poster was no more than a mattress atop splintered and blackened wood. Lucius whipped back the sheets and went still to discover the naked and utterly captivating witch stirring beside him.

“Good morning,” he whispered, aroused by the mere sight of her sun-kissed skin. Unable to resist her, Lucius slid under the sheet to press against her and inhale her scent.

“So,” she breathed wryly. “You’re a dragon at night..?”

“I’m a shifter,” he corrected, pressing his lips to her neck.

“Ah,” she replied.

“I’ve only recently learned it, myself,” he explained.

The little witch turned in his arms to face him. “I didn’t know there were shifters other than werewolves.”

Lucius tucked a lock of brown curls behind her ear. “Surprise…”

The urge to protect and covet Hermione filled him. His every instinct screamed that she was his. However sympathetic the young witch was to magical creatures, she was known to be furiously independent. No good would come from hoarding her… Although the idea of chaining her to his bed held a certain appeal…

With the delightful image languishing in his mind, Lucius sat up for another look at the room.

“I did this?” Lucius confirmed, gazing at the wreckage. His chairs and bar were no more than ash and melted silver.

“Don’t you remember..?”

“No,” he bit, glaring at the charred remains of his wardrobe.

“Just before we _did _anything you turned into a dragon. Not a giant one, thankfully. But you were… Quite wild.”

“You weren’t hurt?” Lucius asked, struggling with sudden irrational concern.

“Apparently, I’m the only thing you didn’t want to incinerate.”

Lucius breathed deeply, still glancing about the wrecked room, trying to imagine the scene.

“I am a Weißer Drache,” Lucius murmured.

“Quite a stunning one,” Hermione replied.

“What did I look like?” he grinned, pleased to hear she liked what she’d seen.

“I thought you’d caught fire for a moment – blue-white flames consumed you and then I was looking at a white dragon. You breathed fire _everywhere_. I did what I could to contain it but you didn’t calm until I touched you…”

“Wings?”

A delighted grin broke across the witch’s lips. “Yes, you have lovely wings…”

Lucius smirked back at her, enjoying her praise, no matter how humorous she found it.

“You’ve got a trail of scales down your back – did you know?”

The witch’s nimble hand traced a line down Lucius’ spine, sparking an immediate jolt of desire in him. He inhaled sharply as she withdrew her hand.

“But, why do you suddenly like me..?” she asked, darkness clouding her tone.

“As I recall, abandoning dinner plans was your idea.”

“I thought to get the… Physical attraction out of my system…”

Rolling his thigh to press his growing erection against her leg, Lucius teased, “Were you successful?”

Hermione grumbled something unintelligible and slipped closer to Lucius, her breasts soft globes of enticement. With gentle hunger, he fondled the breast closest to his hand.

“I don’t believe this particular sensation will dissipate any time soon,” he said, voice deepening with longing.

“Why is that?” she asked, gasping as his thumb swept over her nipple.

“I believe you are… My mate.” There. He’d said it aloud. 

“No… No, no. That’s not possible!” Hermione argued, suddenly extracting herself from Lucius’ reach. She crawled backwards, perching on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t get your scent out of my mind…” Lucius admitted, unable to explain the depths of his desire for her.

“Suddenly, Muggle-borns are acceptable to you?”

Where was this attack coming from? Obviously, his craving for her was stronger than hers for him.

“Hermione… I won’t make excuses for the choices of my past.”

“What is this mate business? Explain it to me,” she snapped.

Aggravated by her ability to so lightly reject his advances, Lucius sneered, “I’ll use small words.”

With a hurt glance and sharp flicks of her wand, Hermione began summoning bits of her torn clothing from corners of the blackened room.

“Wait! I apologize,” Lucius filled with dread at the idea of her departure. He’d need to learn to reign in his temper; Hermione had a will to match. “You know as much as I about this…”

“Mates are myths,” the witch bit but she sat back down on the bed.

“As are dragon shifters..?” he offered.

Hermione shot him an annoyed but grudging grin. “Touché.”

“I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

“If our attraction is not natural, it’s hardly fair,” she sighed.

“Fair?” Lucius prompted, crawling towards her.

“It isn’t real,” she clarified.

“I offered to take you to dinner,” Lucius reminded her.

Hermione laughed without humor, “Because you liked my perfume.”

“Oh, no. Under your peach skin cream and soap, is the scent of you… And your desire.”

The witch went motionless and Lucius could smell it on her. She wanted him, still. With a growl, Lucius pulled her onto her back and straddled her. Her arousal was a sweet, poignant opposite to the bitter, charred room.

Hermione lifted her hand and gently caressed Lucius’ cheek and lip with two fingertips. Her touch chased all logic, all reason, all coherent thought from his mind.

“Yes?” was all he was capable of asking.

“Yes,” she breathed.

**Hours Later**

“I need to eat,” Lucius muttered, thoroughly sated of other hungers.

“I could eat,” Hermione replied.

“…Restaurant?” Lucius asked, fully aware of the circuitous conversation that would follow.

“Is that wise?”

“Have you so little faith in your own self-control?”

“What happens if I desire you over dessert..?”

Lucius’ response was as swift as a randy twenty-year-old’s. He gave Hermione a playful pinch on her buttock.

“Another time, perhaps,” she said sheepishly.

“Why don’t I have the House-elfs prepare something?” Lucius purred.

“I don’t want to offend you but I could use some time to process this… And recover.”

Concerned, Lucius replayed their evening and morning in his mind. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not in a bad way…” she winked.

“I’m reluctant to let you out of my sight.”

The witch’s gaze went soft and she pressed a quick kiss to Lucius’ mouth. “Why don’t I come back this evening?”

“I would very much like that,” he replied. “And maybe you can tell me what in Merlin’s name, I did to my bed.”


	5. Epilogue

Hermione waddled across the room, her figure heavy with pregnancy, to join Lucius and their three children. Their two sons were nearly grown. Julian would move out at the end of the week and Cassian would graduate from Hogwarts in June. Abraxia had three years left at Hogwarts but with two older brothers, she proclaimed that she knew all she needed to know; Lucius and Hermione no longer needed to teach her life lessons.

“Feeling alright?” Lucius asked, drawing Hermione close.

“Just a bit tired,” she replied.

“Turn your faces this way,” the photographer instructed. “Say Kneazle!”

“Kneazle,” the family chorused.

“Well done. This will serve as an excellent photograph from which to paint a portrait.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, immediately dropping into the closest chair. “Dizzy, please see Mr. Brown out.”

“Cassian, get your mother a glass of water,” Lucius directed as Abraxia and Julian made themselves scarce.

“Lucius, didn’t you tell me our children wouldn’t be drache?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

“That’s right,” he replied, solicitously leaning against the back of her chair. 

“This morning, I brought Julian some extra bedding to take with him – he was getting dressed and I could swear I saw scales down his back.”

It was rare that any news surprised Lucius but his wide eyes spoke of shock.

“Well, my father was wrong about my fathering _any_ children…”

“Of course, if you go in for this ‘mate’ nonsense…” Hermione added.

“I’ll speak to Julian,” Lucius promised, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s head as Cassian levitated a glass of cold water into her hand.

“Grandfather thinks we’re all drache,” Cassian said softly.

Hermione exchanged an annoyed look with Lucius to which he laughed. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Abraxas would share the secret Malfoy lineage with his grandchildren. He’d been so ecstatic to learn that she would have Julian, he’d finally reconciled with Lucius’ mother. Now, Hermione was glad Mathilde continued to give Abraxas such grief for leaving her.

“Spine scales are the first physical sign,” Hermione said. “But Julian’s are uncommonly early.”

Lucius shrugged, “It’s not as if there’s a drache manual lying about…”

“Father, Abraxia would kill to see you – you know – as a dragon,” Cassian

“Might as well get this over with. Dizzy! Fetch Julian and Abraxia back here, please,” Lucius said, clearly excited to show off. Abraxia had him wrapped around her pinky. Anything the blond witch wanted, she got.

“How long have you known?” Hermione asked, still annoyed.

Cassian looked as his feet and shrugged.

“Wait! Take it outside!” Hermione groaned as Julian and Abraxia reappeared and blue-white flames enveloped Lucius.

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from. I think imagining Lucius Malfoy with dragon wings rather did the trick. My interest in all of my WIPs were no match for that mental image.


End file.
